perfect

Written 10/7/07

I don't want to die.


I really don't want to die.


I don't want my friends to die.


I really don't want my friends to die.


We don't want to die, yet we find it hard wanting to live.


So what are we supposed to do?

While in my eating disorder I was dead while I was living.

I wanted neither... neither life nor death, so my only solution was to have both... suffer "death" while living.

I'm lost for words. I don't even know where to begin. There's so much I want to say right now. I feel the need to continue to help people understand the severity of this disease, YES, DISEASE, ILLNESS!!!!

in an attempt to exlpain...

those of you who know me know how full of life I am. I love to laugh, sing, joke, dance, goof off. I believe that God had given me passion for himself and for life. I believe that I am fully alive.

8 months ago.... you would have met a completely different person.

You would have met a hollow shell.

I couldn't laugh. I couldn't joke. I was afraid of people. I was afraid to talk to people. I was so overwhelmed with anxiety and depression. I didn't want friends because they got in the way of my "diet." I was too depressed to cry. I never smiled. My favorite part of the day was going to sleep... the worst part... waking up. And that's if I could sleep... my obession controlled my every thought and so I would wake up in a panic almost every hour to see if it was time for me to run yet. I was tired all the time. I had no energy. I was always freezing cold, even during the end of the summer (in the south). The only thing that encouraged me was hearing people say I looked sick, I was too skinny, and I needed to eat. In my sick mind, these were compliments. But at the same time, they made me angry, because I couldn't understand why people were "lying" to me.



fast forward...
11/1/07

I think I wanted to end this piece with my "success" story and where I am now. But I never finished this writing. I have a lot of unfinished entries like this. I figure my writings are a lot like my recovery... just when I think I'm done, I realize there's more to do. I also realize that I, myself, will never actually be quite finished... at least not on this side of heaven. Sometimes I get frustrated at the thought, especially since I invest so much time and energy into being perfect. But God reminded me of something the other day... when I try so hard to be perfect, I'm not allowing God to be God. If I was perfect, I wouldn't need God.

Here I am trying to impress Him, but I'm starting to wonder if what He really hears me say is "see, I don't need you!"

So back to that girl... the one I wrote about with all the issues... I realize... she is so not beneath me. I am still her and I am still capable of living the life she lived... the difference?

It's not her life anymore.

It's been surrendered...

but it hasn't been perfected.

I still need God just has much as I did as when I was deep in my illness.

And I've decided... If being perfect means living a life that doesn't need God... I don't want to be perfect. Ever.


(atleast not on this side of heaven)